


Wherever Megatron Wants

by Caius



Series: That TFP MegOP Porn AU [2]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Aft Port (Transformers), Anal Sex, Dominant Bottom Megatron, Felching, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Topping from the Bottom, actually a robot butthole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:09:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caius
Summary: Megatron loves Optimus' spike, and he's going to take it everywhere he can.Originally posted on tumblr June 17, 2015.





	Wherever Megatron Wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spaceliquid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceliquid/gifts).



Megatron huffed in impatience and pulled the hand further down, shoving it against a small dry ring. “ _There_.”   


“You want…?” Optimus knelt between Megatron’s broad thighs, his spike standing proud and thick between them. He’d figured out by now that Megatron really, truly, enjoyed Optimus’ spike, but he didn’t think anyone truly…wanted it _there_.   


Decepticons had a reputation for such acts, but Optimus had always assumed it was a sign of their selfish, rapacious nature and not of a true desire to be…penetrated that way.   


Megatron snorted. “Of course I want it. Do you even know what to _do_ with it?”   


Optimus flushed. “I know some of the theory.” Not, mostly, for _this_ application, but byproducts of impure fuels can build up in there, and if they’re not excreted properly – well. Sometime it is necessary to go in, with a medical instrument, or with fingers. He rubbed the little hole with his fingers – tiny, and with very little give, but he knew for a mining model such as Megatron, who would be expected to encounter a _lot_ of inpurities – it would strech, if it had to.   


The metal was hot under his fingers, and there was a slight drip of lubricant, down from Megatron’s valve, and – he looked down between his own legs – Optimus’ own valve as well.   


Even after so many encounters where Megatron went straight for Optimus’ spike, Optimus’ valve got dripping wet and open and ready, every time, just in case. 

“I’ll need – lubrication.” Optimus said. He gathered a few drops of valve lubrication in his fingers and worked it into the hole. “Unless you, ah, want it rough?”   


“Would you give it to me that way?” Megatron asked him. His hand had moved away from guiding Optimus’ to stroke Optimus’ spike fondly. “Shove it in in one hard thrust and see if you can make me scream?” Megatron smirked up at him and squeezed the tip of the spike firmly in his big, rough palm.   


“I –!” Optimus pushed into Megatron’s grip, unconsciously forcing the tip of his finger into Megatron’s hot, tight waste port. The tightness – in both places – pushed him nearly over the edge. He pulled back, finger and spike, trying to center himself again. He was doing this because _Megatron_ wanted it. Not because of how good it would feel on his own spike. 

Megatron snorted, again, and pushed Optimus back onto his back on the floor – they never did quite make it to the berth, so he’d started investing in carpeting. Washable or disposable carpeting. He straddled Optimus’ hips and grabbed that spike again, slick and hot and sensitive from several rounds in Megatron’s mouth. Megatron delighted in every inch of that spike.   


Once upon a time, there might have been another spike that could please Megatron so well, but its owner had proven unworthy by failing to survive the million years of war to come to Megatron’s berth, and of the current, shorter list of possibilities, Optimus’ was definitely on the top of the list. Thick and long, but not too long for Megatron to take the whole thing into each of his holes – with some difficulty, but the challenge was the best part – with spirals of nodes and ridges and charge-carrying wires near the surface, making every single inch taken in a new and exciting experience.

Megatron wasn’t sure how Optimus lived so long without anyone deciding to claim his spike. The silly bot had told Megatron that he was a _valve_ mech. 

Megatron was convincing him otherwise, with every part of his body. Megatron shoved a couple fingers into his own valve, gathering some lubricant to annoint the magnificent spike and prepare it for its duties. He even slid a hand over Optimus’ own remarkably wet valve, just a brief cupping motion to gather some of his oils, no penetration for Optimus. The little _mewl_ Optimus made when his valve was touched, and the sigh when it was no longer touched, had Megatron convinced to try teasing Optimus’ valve some more.   


Later. For now, he had a more important hole to prepare. He grabbed Optimus' hand in one of his, still rubbing the spike with his other hand, and deep-throated three of his fingers, fellating them casually for a moment.   


When he had Optimus’ spike pretty well covered with valve fluids and close to its his – second? third? – next but definitely not last – overload, he pulled the fingers out of his mouth and turned around over Optimus – at least one hand on the spike the whole time – spreading his thighs over Optimus’ broad chest so that his Optimus had a good view of his spread aft and the tiny port at its center. 

“You may explore,” Megatron told him, still playing with Optimus’ spike, idly stroking and licking in a manner that as much as anything else demonstrated to Optimus that Megatron had taken Optimus’ spike to belong to _him_.   


The Autobot in Optimus objected, strenuously, but the bot in Optimus delighted in being so well cared for, so wanted, so possessed. And he’d been granted  priviledges with Megatron’s body as well. Glad no one could see the color nanites on his faceplate light up in shame, he spread Megatron’s aft as wide as he could get it and _touched_ the little hole. It was a little easier, now, with his thoroughly sucked fingers, but it wasn’t enough.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the opening, kissing the outside first, sliding his tongue around the circle of metal, and then, as the heat and the rumble of engines increased, he made the kiss deeper, quick flicks of his lips inside, first just a little, then longer and deeper, trying to please it like he would a valve – but without the folds and external nodes to tell him where to focus his energies. 

It was good, though. It didn’t taste like a valve. It tasted like _Megatron_ , like hot metal and burned energon and a few traces of the earth fuels they’d all had to use.   


It made him want to be inside, for his own sake, not just for the crushing pleasure, just to feel closer to Megatron.

“Enough!” Megatron declared, as Optimus was working his way outward from his third deep kiss of the aft port. Optimus pulled back, embarrassed for a moment at the thought of what paint transfers and oil stains must be on his faceplates. 

“You look _good_ with your shame-lights glowing through streaks of silver and purple.” 

Megatron turned around again to face Optimus and kiss him on the lips, thoroughly and deeply, and as if he was enjoying the taste of his aft port – or simply enjoying Optimus’ mouth. 

While Megatron’s lips and tongue dominated Optimus’  mouth, his strong arms and legs worked at arranging them in an appropriate position to _finally_ put the Prime’s spike where he wanted it. He knelt above the spike, leaning forward to kiss Optimus, one hand guiding the spike toward his aft port. Megatron didn’t usually even bother extending his spike, but his valve folds glistened and spread, metalmesh expanding in automatic preparation for a spike that wouldn’t be going there.   


Beneath it, it was hard to even see the port where Megatron was putting the spike, there was only one hand between Megatron’s legs, holding him open, and then another on Optimus’ spike, guiding him.

The tip of Optimus’ spike caught on the ring of the aft port, and it seemed electrified – it probably was – sending charge through Optimus’ entire body, making him want to thrust _up_ and _in_ to whatever hole it could.

Optimus clutched at the rug. It was Megatron’s choice how to take this, and Megatron had matters well in hand. Pressure at the tip of the spike, and then a little _pop_ and the tip of the spike was inside. 

The aft port was – _tight_ , the current in its walls seemed constant, rather than the complex set of sensory nodes and datalines in valve mesh. 

Megatron glanced down at Optimus for a moment, a quick status check. Optimus’ status was overwhelmed with pleasure, so Megatron smirked and pushed his hips down a little harder, guiding the spike inside a little more, throwing his head back, groaning in pleasure. 

He worked his aft all the way down Optimus’ spike, groaning long deep groans that Optimus had never heard from him, and then when he finally sat on top of Optimus’ pelvic plating, his spike completely engulfed, he sighed in aroused contentment.

He lifted off a little, ready to start riding, but first he leaned down and gave Optimus a kiss, sweeter than usual. “I want to feel you come in me. Don’t worry about lasting, I can always ride you again.”

Optimus shivered, it was permission, but it was just on the line between a threat and a promise. “Of course,” he agreed. He pushed up his hips, moving into Megatron’s aft hole a little more, trying to pleasure Megatron with this new method. 

Megatron took over the rhythm quickly, driving his aft port down hard over Optimus’ spike. It squeezed him intensely, all over, and periodically the tube _wriggled_ , like a valve trying to please a spike, but not quite. “I’m gonna…” he said. 

And Megatron commanded, pushing his hips down hard so the tip of Optimus’ spike was worked deep inside of him: “Overload.” Optimus did, helplessly, writhing on his own floor, sparks of energy discharging from his sparkplates and from the corners and edges of his armor. His spike sprayed its conductive fluid deep inside of Megatron’s aft port; his valve spurted as well, dumping unused lubricants onto the rug between his legs. 

Megatron kept moving, and Optimus’ spike did not attempt to soften or retract. The Prime had learned that lesson early in his sexual relationship with Megatron.   


“Yessss…it’s always better _after_ a load or two up there…though taking it dry is nice, occasionally….” Megatron rode Optimus hard, his hips starting to squelch as well as clang with each downstroke.

Optimus could feel the heat in the aft port get greater and greater, the walls starting to clench rhythmically, and then Megatron’s overloard was on them, aft port walls hot enough to melt delicate components, contractions milking Optimus’ spike of its transfluid, whether or not he had been ready for another overload. 

Megatron’s valve spurted, too, joining the pile of sweet valve lubricants between them. 

“That was –!” Optimus looked up over Megatron, gazing at his ass as he pulled it slowly off, dripping with fluids. He reached a hand out, but paused.

“Yes?” Megatron raised a thick silver metal brow. He spread his legs a bit, showing of his aft port, still stretched and dripping.

“…can I lick it?” Optimus tried to look Not Quite at Megatron, or his aft, aware that color nanites were displaying his embarrassment all over his exposed faceplate – he disadvantage of having removed his battlemask.

Megatron laughed, not unkindly, and took Optimus by the shoulder, hauling both of them over to an actual berth. “Yes. I will get comfortable, and you, my Prime, will lick the fluids from my aft port.”   


Those shame-lights were illuminating every corner of Optimus Prime’s face, but he forced himself to look Megatron in the optic and smile. “Thank you. I enjoy the taste of the two of us together.”   



End file.
